Instagram Favorites: Furry Friends Edition

I love (LOVE) Instagram. Besides keeping up with friends and family near and far, I really enjoy following celebrity/fashion/lifestyle accounts.

And yes, animals.

Especially the lovely Fuzzberta. Her feed always puts a smile on my face. Because how could a picture of a guinea pig pushing a teeny-tiny shopping cart *not* brighten your day?

Fuzzberta on Instagram

I also adore Daily Danger, who his humans describe as “party animal nugget of love toasted marshmallow.” Just look at this scrumptiousness:

daily danger on Instagram

Another of my favorite feeds features adorable humans *and* animals (win-win). In fact, the book Naptime with Theo and Beau came from this feed, and it looks like another book will be published in 2016. Although I can’t fathom the logistics of napping a baby with a snuggly dog (for us, it was crib-napping in very dark rooms with very loud white noise machines), these photos are breathtaking.

mommasgonecity on instagramWhich are your favorite animal feeds on Instagram? Do share! Because I need as much distraction as possible from real-world news (especially in this election year).

My thoughts on the film Room (in no particular order)

Room-

  1. My house has never seemed bigger.
  2. Brie Larson is amazing. I also adored her character in Trainwreck (which is a much easier movie to watch, FYI.)
  3. Little Jacob Tremblay also is breathtaking. How he wasn’t nominated for an Oscar is beyond me.
  4. Despite my voracious curiosity about this film, it was probably the worst possible choice for me, an anxious mother who has a child almost exactly the same age as the kid in the film. Way to think it out, Suzanne.
  5. I had one nightmare after I watched it and woke up “seeing” bad guys in my room (of course on a night Marc was out of town), which was really delightful.
  6. I couldn’t stop thinking about Room the day after, calculating all the ways I would have tried to escape, marveling over how people like the film’s villain really do exist in the world, and realizing that I will probably always be suspicious of garden sheds.
  7. Three days later, and I still can’t stop thinking about it. I need to find my empathy “off-switch” and quit trying to put myself in “Ma’s” shoes. (Can you even imagine, though?)
  8. I admire how the story was told from little Jack’s perspective; there was such beauty in his imagination. But it’s a double-edged sword. In one way, it kept the movie from being super grisly and (even more) disturbing, but also, seeing it through a child’s eyes made it all the more painful.
  9. There are few things more powerful or all-consuming than a mother’s love.
  10. I am only watching romantic comedies for the rest of my life.

Recovering from Sophie’s hospitalization, mom-guilt and a whole new level of worry

It’s been a week since Sophie’s hospitalization, and I still feel jittery. Especially at night.

Every sound she makes (from across the hall behind a closed door) wakes me up. And last night, when she cried out in her sleep from a bad dream or something equally benign, I flung myself out of bed and sprinted to her room at a pace that surely would qualify me for the Olympics.

The thing is, Sophie is better. She’s more than better, actually. She’s back to her old self.

But I can’t stop thinking about our experience, especially the kids on her hall at the children’s hospital who are still there. Who might have been there for a while before we arrived and have no chance of going home anytime soon. Being in that setting for 24 hours freaked me out and flooded me with gratitude at the exact same time.

Here’s how we got there:

Sophie started vomiting out of nowhere on a Saturday afternoon. It continued through Sunday afternoon, then she got a reprieve. Gatorade stayed down. Graham cracker bites stayed down. She got off the couch and started acting goofy, which is always a good sign. I figured we’d hit the 24-hour mark and the tide was turning.

So when she threw up a few bites of banana later that night, we figured it was just too heavy, no big deal. Off to bed she went, and we settled in to watch the Oscars and enjoy the peace.

At around midnight, though, little Soph woke with a scream and threw up again. It continued ALL NIGHT. We’ve been through our fair share of stomach bugs, but I’ve never experienced one so awful. Sophie would doze off for just a few minutes, then start heaving again. We were glued to each other all night, and by the time the early morning light mercifully peeked around the edges of her curtains, she looked like a ghost of herself.

Pale, lethargic, her belly caving in instead of pooching out. And the vomit — what little bit came up — started to look scary, like dirt. I took her to the doctor as soon as they opened, and after a hop on the scale and a quick once-over, he sent us to the hospital. Sophie had lost 10 percent of her body weight and was severely dehydrated. He explained to me that with children, once they get to this point of constant vomiting, their little bodies are unable to stop it without help.

I should have known. I should have acted sooner. These thoughts — the mom-guilt — plagued me all the way to the hospital as I fought back tears and kept one eye on the rear-view mirror aimed at my daughter who could barely hold up her head.

She vomited again right by the emergency room doors, and when we got inside, we discovered a room filled with kids holding barf bags. She took a Zofran tablet in triage, which stopped her heaving. We finally got a bed two hours later.

I want to stop here to say how wonderful everyone at Wake Med Children’s Hospital was — the nurses, doctors, patient advocate, techs — everyone. Also amazing that day? My sweet husband. He brought Sophie’s favorite lovey and a sandwich for me, snuggled her in the ER bed, talked to the doctor, handled all of the Lily-logistics and generally kept me calm (which was no small feat).

Soon after Sophie’s IV went in (which was AWFUL), she fell into a deep sleep. We moved to her overnight room in a wheelchair together, and as the sun began to set, I curled up with her, so teeny-tiny in that hospital bed, and tried to close my eyes. It was pointless. So I just stared at her. Listened to her breathe. Held her hand. And cried.

The IV was magical. Sophie woke up later that night a new little person. She ate (and kept down) dry Cheerios and Jell-O before falling back asleep, and she even gobbled down a piece of bacon (!!!) at breakfast the following morning. It’s taken her the better part of the last week to fully regain her appetite (and to poop), but now she is well. Thank God.

I know how easy — how small — our hospital experience was compared to those of really sick kids. And I am more aware than ever of how lucky we are to have healthy children. But I can’t relax in that knowledge. I want more than anything to stop worrying, to stop imagining what could happen to my girls, to just live without constantly looking over my shoulder.

This is classic Suzanne. Worry, imagine the worst, worry some more. I’ve been doing it as long as I can remember, and it really grew legs after I became a mother. The silver lining? I’m aware. I’m getting help for my anxiety. And I’m trying to take care of myself (more sleep, less sugar).

But I haven’t been able to shake this jolt (yet). And now I feel more raw than ever.

Sophie hospitalization

 

10 reasons why I call March my “hopeful month”

daffodils

>>> image source <<<

  1. Daylight Saving Time begins. More daylight = happier Suzanne.
  2. The first day of spring. I am never sad to see winter go.
  3. Daffodils. And tulips. And all of the other beautiful things pushing their way through the brown-ness.
  4. Girl Scout cookies.
  5. March Madness. I am a huge college basketball fan, and I love my Tarheels.
  6. Spring break for Lily. Even though I still go to work, it rests my mind when she has time off and our schedule loosens up a bit.
  7. Easter and egg hunts and happy children running around outside.
  8. This is the month, 16 years ago, that Marc first called to ask me out on a date. Despite all our other significant memories, this one sticks.
  9. St. Patrick’s Day. I love any excuse to watch a parade and drink beer.
  10. Cracking open the windows, letting the house take a nice deep breath of fresh air.

favorite Oscar 2016 dresses

Cate Blanchett Oscars 2016
Love, love, LOVE everything about this.
Olivia Munn Oscars 2016
Two thumbs up for this orange. And the one-shoulder cape thingy is so unique.
Jennifer Lawrence Oscars 2016
This dress is crazy amazing. As are her hair and makeup.
Mindy Kaling Oscars 2016
Mindy Kaling is so beautiful, and her love for fashion is contagious.
Tina Fey Oscars 216
The color, the fit, that gorgeous necklace. Perfection.
Brie Larson Oscars 2016
I just saw this dress on the stage, and it’s so ethereal and lovely I had to add it!

>>>images source<<<

on being less ‘nice’

I just discovered this deftly written New York Times article, and it made me squirm. Especially this line:

She is a beautiful kid, but she is also sure and determined in a way that is not exactly pretty. Which is fine, because God help me if that girl ends up smiling through her entire life as if she is waitressing or pole-dancing or apologizing for some vague but enormous infraction, like the very fact of her own existence.

This is me.

Not the “sure and determined” one. But the other one who wants to be liked by every single person I encounter.

I struggle with this often, especially since becoming a mother.

This evening, for example, when the drive-through attendant scowled at me as I handed over cash for the girls’ ice cream, I smiled and thanked her. Then I thanked her again when she gave me my change. And again — bigger smile, please like me, I’m really a nice customer — when she finally handed me the ice cream.

Even when people say or do things that make me uncomfortable, I continue to find myself smiling, agreeing, ingratiating myself to complete strangers in front of my daughters. I mostly want the encounters to end quickly, but instead of walking away, I engage.

I’m not sure why I continue to make that choice. To avoid causing an awkward situation? To save a stranger’s feelings?

It’s ridiculous, really. But I can’t seem to quit.

We’ll be at the grocery store when someone stops me to say how beautiful Sophie is, or in line at Target when someone comments on Lily’s outfit of the day. The girls don’t usually make eye contact with strangers (good) or acknowledge their remarks (even better), but I can’t not do it.

“Oh thank you. She has her own mind when it comes to fashion,” I say with a wink. Then I look down at Lily with a warped expectation that she follow my lead. When really, most of these exchanges could be short and sweet and — preferably — go unnoticed by my girls.

A cursory nod or quick smile would do the trick. Or maybe (gasp) no acknowledgement at all.

I don’t have to respond.

But I keep doing it. Then scolding myself.

And repeat.

So I raced through the article hoping the author would share a strategy, a solution. How do we resist the impulse to be a people-pleaser in these situations? Better yet, how do we shut it down for good?

Being kind is important to me. But indulging others — especially strangers — in unnecessary ways is a lesson I don’t want to pass on to my girls.

Awareness is a good first step, right? And I’m lucky that my girls are still little enough not to be very attuned to social cues (and usually too distracted to pay attention to these encounters when we’re out in public). So I haven’t entirely blown it.

But what better reason to make a positive change than for the benefit of my children?

This is what drives me to keep trying. To be more confident and protective of my kids and myself.

To be less ‘nice.’

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